


please don't go

by itllsetyoufree



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, after kara found out lena knew she was supergirl already, takes place after 5x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itllsetyoufree/pseuds/itllsetyoufree
Summary: “Don’t you dare just take Myriad and run out of here.”Lena drills her gaze into Kara without sparing a glance for the device on her desk, and Kara wonders if Lena knows deep down that Kara wouldn’t steal it back from her now, just like she hadn’t in the Fortress. Not like Lena had stolen it from her.“No, I’m not— that’s not why I’m here. It’s you,” Kara urges, lurching across the threshold and into Lena’s office. “I want— I’m here for you.”
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 39
Kudos: 502





	please don't go

**Author's Note:**

> Based entirely off of [this incredible gifset](https://femaleheroes.tumblr.com/post/638784362799890432/please-dont-go) from [femaleheroes](https://femaleheroes.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Go feast your eyes on it, it's delightful.

Sunset in National City is one of Kara’s favorite times of day. All of the warmth that’s so lovingly ensconced every crevice of the city all day melts away into orange and pink and blue, gleaming off the buildings and shining in the glass as the world starts to soften for the night. Kara likes to watch the sunsets from the sky, soaking in the day’s final rays of sun from her perch on the roof of the city’s tallest building. Lena’s building. There’s something about the warmth of her favorite star and the view of her favorite city— the sound of her favorite heartbeat a few floors below her.

But sunset feels a little different tonight. 

It’s not until the last vestiges of pink are fading to blue that Kara arrives at L-Corp, landing this time on Lena’s balcony instead of her roof. There, sitting right on Lena’s desk in plain sight, boldly on display, is Myriad. It glints softly, mockingly under the fluorescent lighting, but Kara has eyes only for the woman reaching for the whiskey on her bar cart. Her back is to Kara, arm stretched out and fingers just brushing the neck of the bottle when Kara knocks on the window. Lena freezes, then tips her chin just a little, not quite looking over her shoulder. Her fingers curl back in toward her palm as she slowly turns around, fist clenching at her side as she meets Kara’s eyes through the glass door. 

Kara’s first thought as she looks over Lena’s stony face is that the mask Lena wears is good, dangerously good, but not perfect. Her eyes are still tinged pink around the edges, her jaw clenched a little too hard, the mascara by her left eye just the slightest bit smudged. You’d need to have super vision to see it. 

It’s bold coming here to find Lena, is Kara’s second thought, not an hour after Lena had torn her to shreds in the Fortress and left her alone in a kryptonite cell. But when Kara tries the balcony door it slides right open for her, unlocked already, and maybe, is Kara’s third thought, maybe Lena _wants_ to be found. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Lena warns. Her voice is low and hoarse and Kara remembers how Lena had screamed herself raw earlier, wonders absently if she’s had a cup of tea. “And don’t you dare just take Myriad and run out of here.” 

Lena drills her gaze into Kara without sparing a glance for the device on her desk, and Kara wonders if Lena knows deep down that Kara wouldn’t steal it back from her now, just like she hadn’t in the Fortress. Not like Lena had stolen it from her.

“No, I’m not— that’s not why I’m here. It’s _you_ ,” Kara urges, lurching across the threshold and into Lena’s office. “I want— I’m here for _you_.”

Lena’s chest shudders, her breath hitching in her throat. She and Kara watch each other, a silent stand-off only a few paces apart. Kara holds her breath, Lena’s quickening heartbeat in her ears, before something flashes in Lena’s eyes and she goes stoic once more. 

“Lena—”

“Get out.”

Kara’s shoulders sag. “Lena, please just let me explain.”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard enough,” Lena sneers. 

The scornful expression on Lena’s face is not one Kara will ever forget, but the waver in her voice and the tremble in her shoulders propels Kara on. 

“I can fix this, Lena. _Please_. I _know_ you want me to, you wouldn’t— neither of us would care this much if we didn’t want to fix it,” Kara stresses, pressing forward further into Lena’s space. She remembers then, what Lena had said in the Fortress earlier, spills it back out of her own mouth like marbles as if Lena could have possibly forgotten. “If it hurts that much when someone you love lies to you then let someone who loves _you_ tell you the truth.”

That’s what does it, Kara realizes a second too late, as Lena inhales sharp and quick; that’s the one step too far. The difference between a clean landing and a cracked sidewalk, between opening a door and breaking the hinges, between blowing a bubble and freezing it is a line Kara has had trouble toeing her whole life, but she’s never let Lena fall to the wrong side of it until now. 

Lena’s spine pulls her nearly backward as it snaps straight, her face wild with anger, but her eyes… her eyes are watering, and Kara feels her heart clench in her chest.

“You had _three_ _years_ ,” Lena grinds out, her voice shaking as she raises a finger to point at Kara. “Any _single_ one of those moments would have been better than not at all.”

“I know,” Kara whispers, feeling her own eyes water in response. “I _know_ , but Lena—”

“You are too late,” Lena says it slowly, enunciating every word, and Kara squeezes her eyes shut against the tears that spill over. “I said get. out.”

And Kara does.

  


***

  


It’s hours later, when the sunset blues have faded into blacks and the city itself lights up the sky instead that Kara’s doorbell rings. Kara jerks up off the couch, peering through the door to check who it is and then springing airborne across the room to fling it open. The burst of air knocks one of her plants off its shelf, and her oldest, most worn shirt swings loose around her frame as it settles from the wind. Kara takes a step backward, red-rimmed eyes wide as she pops her hand open to avoid crunching her doorknob into dust.

Lena stands in the hallway, hair still pulled taut, her coat draped regally over her shoulders. She regards Kara with fire in her eyes and follows Kara step for step into her apartment as Kara backs away from the door. The door swings closed and it’s quiet except for their breathing and the pounding of two heartbeats in Kara’s ears. Kara’s eyes water again when Lena shows no signs of softening, and Kara aches, she _aches_ for her. 

“Lena—” 

“Don’t,” Lena cuts her off, but her voice is gravelly, on the verge of losing the edge it had earlier, and Kara clicks her jaw shut. “You had _no_ right to come to my office and say those things to me.” 

Kara’s draws in a sharp breath. Lena’s eyes are fiery and full of self-righteous anger, but she’s in there. Kara knows _her_ Lena is in there somewhere, vulnerable and wounded and hurting, but _there,_ and Kara has to find her. 

“Which part?” Kara asks softly, because she knows Lena won’t say it. Lena won’t say _‘The part when you told me you love me,’_ but Kara hopes she thinks it, wants her to remember it over and over until she knows it’s true.

“Do not play dumb with me.” Lena’s jaw trembles, but her eyes have lost some of their fury, and Kara _sees_ her, just for a second. 

The room is so silent around them Kara feels it like a physical presence bearing down on her until she can’t help but keep talking. “I know I hurt you—” 

“Don’t,” Lena snaps again, and Kara waits. “Don’t try to give me one of your classic Supergirl speeches. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m not,” Kara says. “You _know_ that everything I said before was—” 

“Just stop it.”

Kara sighs, biting the inside of her cheek. It’s quiet for a moment, but Kara feels all the words they’ve never said buzzing like a live current between them. She waits for Lena, fidgeting with her shirt cuff, but Lena stays silent until Kara looks up again to find Lena watching her. 

“What is it then?” Kara pushes, shrugging helplessly.

But Lena doesn’t answer. She bites her upper lip into her mouth and shakes her head stubbornly. She’s on the verge of something, Kara can tell, but she’s holding herself back, out of anger or confusion or fear, so Kara pushes one last time. 

“What is it, Lena?” she whispers, her voice gentle but her eyes insistent. “You didn’t come all the way over here just to tell me you don’t want to talk to me. If you didn’t want to talk, you would have just stayed home, so what is it? What do you want to say?”

Lena inhales sharply, and Kara can see her eyes watering. The muscle in her jaw pulses as Lena clenches it, and suddenly she’s shaking her head back and forth, that finger raising again and pointing at Kara. 

“Why did you say all that? Everything you said in my office earlier.”

“Because it’s true,” Kara says, her brows creasing together as she watches Lena’s chin tremble.

“Why didn’t you say it before?” Lena demands, her voice a little choked, breath starting to come a little heavier. Her eyes are full to the brim with tears, and the finger she has pointed at Kara shakes in mid-air. “How could you wait this long?” 

Kara gasps and stumbles back a step. Her lower back hits the kitchen island, and she reaches back to grip it, the cool wood of the surface instantly soothing her heated skin. Lena’s gaze is re-focused, stricken but intent, and Kara scrambles for words. “I don’t— I didn’t—”

But Lena follows her, a tear spilling over as she steps toward Kara, 

“It doesn’t make any sense” she croaks, face twisting in a grimace. “Why now _,_ after you ruined _everything_?”

“Lena—”

Lena bursts forward and crashes her lips into Kara’s, catching her forearms against Kara’s chest then sliding her hands up Kara’s neck into her hair. The sheer force of it, of Lena throwing her full weight into Kara with no intention of catching herself knocks Kara backwards into her kitchen island again, her lower back juddering her body to a halt when it hits the wood. 

And her heart is flying, singing for a brief moment when she forgets everything except the way Lena’s ribcage feels as it expands and contracts under her hands, except the smell of Lena’s intoxicating perfume, except the way Lena’s bottom lip drags against her own, except the way her nerves are firing, heart bursting out of her chest and into Lena’s _finally._ And there’s nothing, nothing else until one of Lena’s hands loosens from where it had been cradling the base of Kara’s skull, drops down to work Kara’s top button free with her fingers. It slips down between Kara’s breasts and catches roughly on the next button, and Kara jerks back from Lena’s lips wide-eyed, skimming a hand up her spine to cup the back of her neck as she presses her forehead to Lena’s. 

“Lena—” 

Lena shakes her head, cutting Kara off again. She frees the second button and slips her hand into the placket of Kara’s shirt. Her palm presses flat over Kara’s heart, and she stubbornly squeezes her eyes shut to not meet Kara’s. Kara’s breath stutters out of her, heart pounding into Lena’s palm, goosebumps rippling out from under Lena’s touch when Lena speaks again. “If you don’t want this, I need you to tell me right now.” 

And _god_ , how many times has Kara imagined this? This exact moment, cradling Lena’s waist or her cheek, drawing her in close, _close_ like rose petals and pressing kiss after kiss to her lips until she’d feel Lena giggle into her mouth. She’d kiss the breath from Lena’s lungs and lose her own in return until all she can inhale is what Lena gives her. In Kara’s mind, it had always happened after a happy day— a lazy Saturday spent watching movies and curled up on the couch, a trip to the museum, a flirty lunch at L-Corp… 

This isn’t quite how she’d imagined it, after a day riddled with strife and heartbreak, but now with Lena tucked tight against her, her heart straining to push right into the hand Lena has pressed against it, shivers zipping down her spine from the way Lena’s scratching at her scalp, she can’t back away from it. Kara takes a moment to steel herself, clutches tighter at the small of Lena’s back, quakes at the way Lena gasps when it presses their hips together. 

“Kara,” Lena rasps, her voice still low and a little gravelly. She burrows further into Kara’s space and Kara wraps her arm fully around Lena’s waist. “I swear to god if you don’t answer me—” 

Kara kisses her, pushing off the counter behind her as she dips her head back in and presses her lips back to Lena’s. Lena stumbles backwards from the momentum, but Kara pulls her back in, her arm tightening around Lena’s waist to steady her. It only makes Lena arch up into her, pressing flush to Kara’s chest as her grip tightens in Kara’s hair, and Kara whimpers into Lena’s mouth. Kara pulls Lena’s bottom lip between her own, and Lena gasps against her. 

The air shifts between them when Lena starts scrabbling at Kara’s buttons again, her hand trapped uselessly between their bodies. Her fingertips twist and slip over Kara’s skin until the buttons come loose one by one, and Kara trembles, never feeling quite so undone as she does with Lena’s fingers skidding over her stomach. 

“Kara,” Lena breathes, and Kara lifts her. 

Lena’s coat falls to the floor somewhere in the kitchen, her legs wrap around Kara’s hips as they pass through the living room, and Kara presses her into the mattress in the bedroom. She laces her fingers with Lena’s as she noses at the soft skin behind Lena’s ear, breathing in deeply when she catches the familiar, comforting scent of Lena’s shampoo. Lena grips a fistful of Kara’s shirt, and her other hand squeezes around Kara’s as Kara kisses down her neck, and Kara sighs, settling in. She knows they can figure the hard part out later, as she follows when Lena pulls her back in to kiss her again, because nothing, _nothing_ , matters but this.

  


***

  


It’s early, is the first thing Lena registers. The sun is bright and warm and streaming directly onto her face, and she tilts her head into her pillow to hide her eyes. Consciousness comes slowly, but it comes, hazy with the warmth and languor of a good night’s sleep. Soft puffs of air tickle the loose hair on her neck, wafting over the bare skin of her shoulder. Kara’s nose is tucked against her, lips brushing the nape of her neck. Her arm is wrapped snugly around Lena’s middle, fingers splayed over her ribcage, holding her tightly against her body like she’s precious, and there’s so much _skin_. 

Lena feels all of Kara tucked against her back, her skin smooth and sleep-warmed against Lena’s. Kara’s hips cradle hers, their legs tangled around each other’s, and it’s safe and it’s _loving_ , and fuck if it isn’t everything Lena’s wanted for years. Lena squeezes her eyes shut tighter and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the way her heart starts pounding a drumline in her chest. The arm around Lena’s middle tightens, and Kara makes a soft noise in her sleep, lips shifting against the nape of Lena’s neck, and suddenly it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. The warm drowsiness of morning vanishes, and Lena’s skin prickles. Suddenly the press of Kara’s skin is too hot, the tangle of their legs too tight, the drape of her arm too suffocating. 

Because it’s this, Lena realizes, pushing down the urge to shove Kara away until she can breathe again and instead slowly, carefully untangling their legs. It’s this. This is what she could have had, lazy mornings wrapped around Kara with the sun warming her skin, breakfasts and dinners and a whole life together, because _this is what Kara wants too_ , and wouldn’t it have been nice if Kara hadn’t been lying to her for years? 

She slips from Kara’s arms slowly so as to not wake her. The cool air from outside hasn’t penetrated the warm glow of Kara’s bedroom, but Lena still rushes to gather her clothes from the floor. Her dress is a crumpled mess near Kara’s nightstand, and she starts to hear movement behind her just as she’s pulling it up over her hips.

She regrets the look she sneaks over her shoulder the second she does it. The morning sunlight is dazzling against Kara’s hair, and the serene, sun-kissed glow it casts on Kara’s face is marred only when her brows pinch in confusion, her hand searching over the now-empty space in front of her. Lena looks away before Kara fully wakes up, her mind and her body warring against each other as she slips her arms into the sleeves and tugs the wrinkled dress over her shoulders. 

“Hey,” she hears from behind her, sleepy and warm as honey. “Where’re you going?”

“Home.”

“Don’t,” Kara says, her words gaining more structure but still loose and languid, and Lena hears her roll onto her back. “Stay.”

Lena takes a slow breath, deep and steady, swallows around every lump in her throat, and says, “No. No, I don’t think so.” 

The words come out strangled and clipped, her voice hoarse, but she doesn’t stop. She reaches back and tugs up the zipper on her dress but doesn’t look behind her, can’t look anymore. The bed shifts behind her, and Lena pulls her hair out from the collar of her dress as she heads around the bed toward the living room.

“Lena, _wait,_ ” Kara urges, and the desperation in her voice pulls Lena to a halt. “Please don’t go.”

Lena stops in the entranceway to the bedroom, looks out into the living room and sees her shoes by the coffee table, her coat in a pile in the kitchen. Her heart clenches, because how many times has she imagined this moment, and it’s never ended like this. She’d pictured them coming together a million different ways: after game night, dancing together at Alex’s wedding, confessing nervously over dinner. Soft and sweet and unassuming, just like Kara. 

Except that’s not so much like Kara, after all. 

The apartment looks the same— sunny and cozy and well lived in. There are CatCo magazines and candles on the coffee table, a vase she’d given Kara filled with flowers on the windowsill, the same stack of books sitting on the side table. It would be so easy to weave this apartment into her life, to leave a toothbrush and some clothes, her favorite mug. It’s open and warm and everything Lena’s apartment isn’t.

She wonders where Kara hid the suit when she used to invite her over. 

She thinks about every time their hugs lasted a little too long, every time Kara’s eyes had stared a little too much at her lips and dropped even lower, every time they’d cuddled up together for a movie. 

She thinks about Supergirl lying prone on a table in front of her in a room full of people she had dinner with every week and no one bothering to tell her that maybe she had reason to be a little more nervous than she already was. 

“Lena—”

She leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr [@itllsetyoufree](https://itllsetyoufree.tumblr.com/)


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